Run Away
by granthamfan
Summary: In a mere three weeks, Cora Levinson will walk down the aisle and marry Viscount Downton. Cora is desperately in love with her fiancé, but faces strong opposition in the form of her domineering mother, not to mention her formidable mother-in-law. As control of her own wedding slips further and further from her grasp, will she able to convince Robert to run away with her?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This idea popped into my head after having lunch with ladycobert. There are some references to lines from the show that you'll recognize. I hope you all enjoy, and thank you for your continue support! Special thanks to Dream of Ragtime for being my biggest fan, and to perioddramasxtheatre for helping me to work this out in my head. Also, thank you to syriana94 for my beautiful cover image!

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January 1890

It was supposed to be the happiest time of her life. Yet Cora could hardly remember a time when she had felt more miserable.

She had arrived back in England only the week before, bubbling with excitement as her marriage to Lord Downton-Robert, she reminded herself, as referring to her betrothed by his Christian name still sounded strange and foreign-drew closer. The five months that she had spent back in New York had seemed endless, her only contact with her future husband being the occasional letter.

In spite of her mother's warnings and her own good sense, Cora had fallen hopelessly in love with the charming and handsome Viscount, and had hated being an entire ocean away from him. She longed to see him again, and had happily anticipated her return to England, visions of her fiancé and the wedding she had always dreamed of filling her head.

But that happiness had been short-lived. Since her arrival back at Downton, her dream had quickly devolved into a nightmare.

Cora had known during their courtship that Robert's mother was none too keen on her. The Countess of Grantham was formidable on the best of days, and had made it abundantly clear that she was against the match. But Cora had not anticipated the coldness and downright dismissal that awaited her upon her return.

And now, as she sat across from her soon-to-be mother-in-law in the library of the abbey, listening to her latest tirade-something to do with the choice of flowers for the church-she felt the sting of tears in the corners of her eyes.

"Is it such an imposition that I would like roses for my ceremony?" Cora questioned, fighting against the tremor in her voice.

"I'm simply saying," Violet enunciated, speaking as though to one who was particularly daft, "that the arrangements you are proposing are much too large and distasteful. This is a wedding, dear; not a communion in southern Italy." Violet laughed at her own joke, but Cora didn't find it one bit funny.

"Where's Robert?" she asked suddenly, desperate to escape.

"Somewhere out on the estate, I imagine" Violet answered, waving her hand dismissively. "Why do you ask?"

"I had hoped to spend some time with him." Cora looked down at her hands folded in her lap before chancing a glance at the countess. The look on her face gave her pause, but Cora continued on. "He is to be my husband, after all."

"You'll see him at tea, and then again at dinner." Violet's icy voice sent a small shiver down Cora's spine. "Do you honestly expect for him to spend every waking moment with you?"

"Of course not," Cora countered, her spine straightening in spite of her desire to flee the room. "But, we're to be married soon. I had hoped to have the chance to get to know him a bit better."

"I should have thought you knew plenty." Lady Grantham's voice was dangerously low. "You knew he had a title and an estate. Isn't that what you were after?"

"Now just a minute," Martha interrupted. "My daughter is right. She has the right to spend time with her fiance. As to the other, that's a bit of a low blow, don't you think?"

"We all know what this is." Violet was not one to be deterred from trying to make a point. "You or your daughter needn't pretend otherwise."

But I love him. The words stuck in Cora's throat. Nothing would be gained through such a confession. She had a feeling it would only make things that much worse.

"Lady Grantham," Cora began, "I know that you do not like me. I know that you believe me to only be after Robert's title and estate. But I intend to be a good wife to your son."

"Let us hope so," Violet huffed. "I should hate to think that I allowed this insanity only for you to change your mind halfway through. As I have explained to my headstrong son, marriage is a long business. There is no getting out of it for our kind of people."

"Well, my daughter will soon be one of your kind of people," Martha pointed out. "So let us drop the subject, shall we? We need to move forward in planning the wedding."

"Very well." At that, Cora sighed with relief, thinking that perhaps the countess had finally become bored with needling her. That relief, however, was short-lived.

"Out of curiosity," Violet's voice held a note of feigned nonchalance, "is your taste in wedding gowns as ostentatious as your taste in flowers?"

Cora had been in love with her gown from the moment she had chosen it. Each fitting had only confirmed that she had made the right decision. To have that decision questioned, when her mother-in-law had not so much as laid eyes on the garment, was the final straw.

"No. It isn't," Cora stated flatly. "I think my gown is perfect." She rose to her feet, ignoring the look of perplexity from her mother, and the look of daggers coming from Lady Grantham. "Now, if you'll forgive me, I need a bit of air. I think I'll go for a walk in the garden." Not giving either of the older women the chance to respond, Cora walked quickly from the room, her breath ragged with the effort of maintaining her composure, her chest heaving against the confines of her corset. She all but ran from the house, not bothering to go upstairs for her hat, gloves, or coat.

Admittedly, she had been ill-prepared for the barbed comments that were constantly hurled in her direction. She had grown somewhat accustomed to them during the Season the previous summer. The narrow-eyed glares from the English girls who thought her out to steal their men; a title-hunting American princess whose one goal was to elevate herself in society's eyes.

Cora Levinson had held no such aspiration. She had only gone along with her mother's wishes because she knew she would never hear the end of it otherwise. She had hoped to get through the Season and return to New York where, according the conditions she and her mother had agreed upon, she would resume her normal life and never be forced to cross the Atlantic again.

But then she had met Robert. Robert, the man who could make her heart rate quicken by simply speaking her name. Robert who, though she knew his original attraction to her had been because of her dowry, had shown her kindness and patience, and had actually listened when she spoke. And though had been well aware of Lady Grantham's disdain, she had hoped that once she arrived back for good that the older woman would have at least been cordial to her.

Now, as she realized that in a few short weeks England would be Cora's permanent home, living in the same house as her formidable mother-in-law, Cora couldn't assuage the sense of dread that settled into the pit of her stomach. What had she gotten herself into?


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you so, so much for all of the reviews! They mean the world, and keep me motivated to write.

I want to apologize for my absence. Life has been rather chaotic. It's my plan and intention to post much more regularly.

There was never any mention of Cora's middle name before she married Robert, so the middle name I have given her here is my own headcanon.

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Cora had rushed out onto the gravel, her feet stumbling slightly as the uneven ground shifted beneath her. She'd not even taken the time to grab her coat or gloves, instantly regretting the decision as the icy wind whipped around her. Her agitated breath came out in small puffs as she walked further from the abbey, realizing as she crossed the lawn that she had no idea where she was going, nor any idea of how to get back once she got there.

It was all going wrong; all of it. Everything she suggested-everything she wanted for her wedding-was quickly dismissed in favor of something "more suitable". She had quickly lost control of the situation, and the event being planned now was beginning to look like someone else's wedding-not the event that she had been daydreaming of since Robert had asked for her hand. She wondered briefly if all of the fuss was worth it. Was this life she had chosen worth the headache that it had already become? Was she making the right decision; leaving everything she had ever known behind to marry a man whom, though she loved him, was still basically a stranger?

Her thoughts were spinning wildly, overwhelming her as she made her way to a small bench that sat under a tree not far from the house. She had only just sat down when she heard a voice calling from behind her.

"Cora!"

Cora groaned, her head falling forward slightly as her mother's voice reached her ears. Despite the tone of aggravation she could detect in Martha's voice, she didn't answer.

"Cora Margaret!"

Slowly rising to her feet Cora turned, her face blanching as she took in her mother's stern expression. 'Mother?"

"What do you mean, storming out like that?" Martha's ire was palpable.

"I only-"

"You know that woman already thinks us to be heathens. Are you trying to prove her to be correct in her assumptions?"

"Of course not! But-"

"Listen to me, Cora." Martha drew in a long breath before continuing. "It should come as no great surprise to you that Lady Grantham acts the way she does. We are new money, and that is frowned upon here almost as much as it is at home. It should also come as no surprise the reason Robert is marrying you."

Cora hung her head at her mother's words. Though Robert had always made every effort to make her feel comfortable, though he was kind and thoughtful, Cora did indeed know the primary reason her fiancé had pursued her. It was the same reason every other man had looked at her over the course of the Season. Her money.

"But, I love him, Mother," Cora spoke quietly. "I know that the main reason he pursued me was for my money. But, I love him."

"I know you do, my dear," Martha sighed, taking her hand. "And it worries me to no end to think of you ending up hurt."

"Does it?" The bitterness in Cora's voice as she jerked her hand away was surprising even to her own ears. "When this whole thing was your idea in the first place? 'We need to better the family name, Cora.'" She watched as her mother's nostrils flared in indignation at her mockery, but she continued. "'I'm taking you to London to find a husband.' Well, Mother, I have fulfilled your wishes. I will one day be the Countess of Grantham. You can brag to your friends and the New York elite that your daughter is now an English aristocrat."

"You make me sound very callous and cruel, Cora." Pain registered on Martha's face. "I only ever want what's best for you; you know that. I know you love Robert. And I'm thankful that he intends to be kind to you, and to make you happy. But, my dear, do not allow your emotions to fool you into believing that Robert feels the same for you. We all know that his family needs your father's money to keep up the estate. I just don't want you to set up unrealistic expectations for this marriage. I don't want you to believe it to be more than it is."

"You're supposed to be on my side, Mother." Cora couldn't hide the disappointment in her voice as she listened to her mother almost parrot the words of her mother-in-law-to-be.

"I am on your side, Cora. I'll always be on your side. But part of a mother's responsibility, which you'll learn soon enough, is to protect her children. In a few weeks, your father, brother, and I will be back on the other side of the Atlantic." Cora swallowed and looked away. "We won't be here to protect you at every turn, my dear. You're strong, Cora, and I want to know that you won't let your heart get ahead of your brain."

Cora pressed her lips together, and turned once again toward Martha. "It's a bit late for that. I chose Robert because I love him. Not for this grand estate, not for the eventual title of Countess, not because it will afford me a prominent position in society. You know that I was sought after by men with higher titles. But I didn't love them. I could never spend the rest of my life with someone I didn't love. I know you think I'm foolish—"

"I never said that."

"Haven't you? Isn't that what this entire conversation has been about?" That seemed to silence her mother. "I know what I've gotten myself into," she lied. She didn't; not really. Though she had only been back in England for a handful of weeks, it was becoming increasingly obvious that she had bitten off quite a bit more than she could chew when it came to many things. She'd underestimated the outright contempt of her soon-to-be mother-in-law, as well as the extensive and intricate code of etiquette to which she would be expected to adhere. Most things about this country were either archaic or bewildering to her American sensibilities, and she worried that she would never be able to fully wrap her mind around them all. But, she was determined to try.

She was also determined to make a good life with Robert. She'd heard tell of the average aristocratic marriage, how cold and bitter they ofttimes became. However, she was determined that theirs would not be amongst them. She was aware that Robert did not love her; however, he did like her a great deal—had even told her as much after dinner the previous evening—and she felt that, over time, he would come to genuinely love her.

"Mother." Her voice was calm and steady. "I know I have a long and difficult road ahead of me. I am under no illusion that any of this will be easy. If Lady Grantham is this obstinate and unyielding during the engagement period, I can only imagine how she'll be once Robert and I are married. But, Mother, I do love him so very much, and I'm willing to do whatever I must to make this work."

"Well," Martha narrowed her eyes, "It's good that I raised a fighter. Heaven knows your going to be engaged in one after the other with a mother-in-law like that."


End file.
